


Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?

by great_shot_green



Category: K-pop, NCT (Band)
Genre: Character Death Mentioned, Character Turned Into a Ghost, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Last words, Nothing too overwhelming I think, One-Shot, Requested work, The Shirelles are good, a haunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28107426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/great_shot_green/pseuds/great_shot_green
Summary: The night of your husband's funeral, you find yourself missing the smallest things about him. You wish you could talk to him one more time. Is your house haunted or have the lights always flickered like that?
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Reader
Kudos: 8





	Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?

You drop to the floor, leaning against the couch. Cigarette dangling between your lips, you shut your eyes and pull the smoke through your teeth. Sympathy cards littered the splintering coffee table with one leg too short. Taeyong was going to fix it next month.

You release a sigh, combing your fingers through your coarse hair. The small black veil pinned at the base of your weak bun falls out in your palm. You toss it away from you and drop your forehead against your knee. Your fingers mindlessly roll the gold ring around your finger as had become your anxious custom for the past four years.

“Christ,” you mutter, voice thick with sandy tension. “What am I supposed to do?”

Receiving no reply, you flick the ashes onto the closest card and squish the butt of the filtered stick into the cardstock. You move to your feet, popping your knuckles as you float upward. Snaking your hands around your back, you unzipped the black dress, letting it fall to the floor of the living room. You step out of it, wandering to the kitchen’s faded glow. You tug at an itch under your black bra strap and rub the grief from your swollen eyes. The nylons muffle your steps in the silent apartment. The silent apartment that seemed like it might never hold sound again.

“I never told you,” you huff as you open the yellowed fridge to see casserole dish upon casserole dish from uncomfortable family members, “but when I stayed over on the second date, your snoring almost sent me running for the hills.”

Your gaze travels from the contents of the fridge to the pictures plastered on the plastic with cheap magnets. Pictures depicting that time Taeyong held you on that hike you both underestimated on your first vacation together, or when you surprised him on his birthday with beer, takeout, and a few of his closest friends. Family gatherings, your wedding day, impromptu walks in the park. Every memory stings you and leaves you filled with a dullness you can't shake. You grab a cheese stick and shut the door.

“Even though you sounded like a construction zone in late July, I thought ‘he’s cute enough to listen to it’.” You let out a strangled chuckle, “so soft-spoken, and yet so loud every night.” You rip open the plastic and bring the cheese to your lips without taking a bite. “Always a man of contradictions,” you whisper and pull off a long strip with your teeth. You slowly chew, not tasting the snack as pressure wells behind your eyes again.

“Fuck, T. It’s so quiet,” your lips tremble, “how am I supposed to sleep in the quiet?” Your chest jerks as you sob, your muscles tightening in your throat and cheeks. You throw the cheese from your hand and cradle your face, inhaling at a dangerously rapid rate.

“I just wanna hear your voice again,” you barely breathe, “I can’t do this.”

You wipe your eyes and sharply inhale as the kitchen is submerged in darkness.

“Are you kidding me?” You push away from the counter to find the phone when the light flashes back on. You sniffle and stare at the ceiling light for only a moment when it shuts off again. You wipe your palms against your cheeks and groan again.

“Fuses?”

The light turns on, then off, then on for a second longer, then off once again. You watch the ceiling, your eyebrows knitted tightly.

“Great, the lights are doing Morse code at me,” you grumble. The light now turns on and off erratically. You eye it for a moment before reaching across the counter for a scrap of junk mail and a credit union pen. You begin scrawling the letters you could remember.

B-A-B-E

“I’m going crazy.” You furrow your brow, gazing at the sheet. “I’m certifiable.”

The lights continue.

I-M H-E-R-E

“You’re not.”

H-E-R-E W Y-O-U

You slam the pen against the counter. “Taeyong,”

L-O-V-E Y-O-U

You clamp your palm over your mouth as you stare at the paper.

N-I-C-E B-U-T-T

A strained laugh bubbles from you as you shake your head, feeling the compounded tension from the past month fall from your shoulders.

“Thanks, baby,” you whisper, pushing your fingers against your eyes.

S-L-E-E-P L-O-V-E

“I can’t.” You shake your head.

S-L-E-E-P

The stereo in the living room shoots on, a low grumble of static rumbling through the apartment. You glance at it and back to the light.

“Fine, as long as you play something good.” You lean away from the counter, leaving the sheet with scrawled letters in the kitchen. You move across the floor, grabbing one of Taeyong’s flannels from the back of a chair. You wrap yourself in it as the radio turns to a soft song.

_Tonight with words unspoken / You say that I'm the only one / But will my heart be broken / When the night meets the morning sun?_

You nestle on the couch and allow the music to overcome you, burrowing your nose in the soft fabric and inhaling deeply, listening to Taeyong’s final message filtered through The Shirelles.

_I'd like to know that your love / Is a love I can be sure of / So tell me now and I won't ask again / Will you still love me tomorrow?_


End file.
